of kimonos and smiles
by des monstres
Summary: She smiles sadly at him. He sees this, and the ends of his lips flow downward. She is doing it again. SasuSaku oneshot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

OKAY. SO. I wanted to try out a new style. I'm not really proud of this, but I'm getting sick of seeing it on my computer and not on ffnet. So here it is!

And don't flame! Because flaming is for poopyheads! But constructive criticism is welcomed.

ENJOY!

* * *

**_Of Kimonos and Smiles_**

She is laughing with the whiskered boy.

He does not understand how she finds his antics so . . . amusing. To him, they are only annoying. But it makes no difference. 'Annoying' is his outlook on most things. This is no different.

His arms cross in front of his chest, and he frowns. He does not want to be here. He looks down at his attire and sees a kimono. It is a deep grayish blue with flocks of silver cranes sewn onto the silk fabric. On the back of the collar is the never-failing red and white uchiwa, standing out proudly against the dark material. Sasuke remembers that he hates kimonos. His glare finds the blonde boy who had begged him and his wife to attend the Moon Festival.

Suddenly, others approach their small circle. He picks out piggy and dog breath from the crowd because they lack the ability to shut their mouths, and he sighs. Sakura cheerfully greets them all, excited that they are all together again. Sasuke, apparently, does not agree with her. It is much too crowded for his liking, and his head begins to ache.

His kimono flutters behind him as he leaves. Nobody notices.

He eventually finds himself on the slope of a small hill and sits down in the cool grass. His hands make their way behind his head, and he leans back into the ground. He finally has a chance to relax.

While staring at the moon hanging overhead, an image of his laughing wife in her scarlet and flamingo pink kimono flashes by. He frowns. She never laughs like that with him. She does not even smile for her own husband. And he is hurt as he comes to realize this.

When she is with him, her mood tends to drop a notch, and she often seems to have fewer things to say. And that alone is surprising enough because Haruno Sakura _always_ has something to say. But then again, she is no longer _Haruno_ Sakura, is she? She is _Uchiha_ Sakura now.

He sighs. He is so lost in thought that he fails to hear the rustling of silk and the sound of padded footsteps. There is a vision of red and hints of pink that kneels beside him. A soft hand lightly touches his cheek, and he looks away from the moon. His eyes turn to her.

"Oh, Sasuke-kun," Sakura breathes out in relief. "You had me worried. You suddenly just disappeared."

"It was too crowded," he simply says.

She smiles sadly at him. He sees this, and the ends of his lips flow downward. She is doing it again: smiling yet not smiling. Her smile does not yell happiness.

"Ah, gomen, Sasuke-kun. I knew you didn't want to come. I shouldn't have forced you."

He does not respond and closes his eyes. Her smile falters. Again, his coldness hurts her. She wonders where all that warmth has gone.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Ah . . ."

He gets up, and she follows. She has brightened up his mood. She walks beside him as they go back to the festival. He stays behind while she runs up to their friends and tells them they would be leaving early. She smiles at them and waves goodbye before returning to his side.

Once the loud noises of the festival disappear, Sasuke is the first to speak.

"Why don't you smile at me?"

She looks confused.

"I don't understand, Sasuke-kun. I always smile at you."

"But not like _that_. Not the way you smile at Naruto or Ino or anyone else."

Her feet stop; he continues to walk. But before he gets too far, she gently grabs his hand. It is enough to stop him. He turns around and looks at her face. She is looking up at him, and he watches a tear escape the green depths of her eye. It slides down her unblemished cheek and drips off her chin. She is crying because of him. He has made her cry again.

He does not know what to say. He was never a man of words. So he roughly pulls her hand, and she crashes into him. His kimono-covered arms hold her tightly against him as she sobs into his chest, soiling the expensive fabric. But he does not mind and only concentrates on the sounds of her grief and sorrow. He is sorry.

She finally pulls away and tiptoes to place a soft kiss to his forehead. He blinks and sees the small curve of her lips. His mouth breaks into a grin.

She smiled for him.


End file.
